


The Tale of Valerio Wicker

by Gaahtoe



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder, Trippy, Weirdness, honestly dont know how to tag this, zared being a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaahtoe/pseuds/Gaahtoe
Summary: “Cold, wet asphalt digging into his back. The smell of rain. A dull throbbing in his head. His hand twitches and scrapes against the dirty ground.This is not where he’s supposed to be.”Valerio wakes up in a place he doesn’t recognize with no memory except for his name. It’s a strange place with a strange red-eyed man who won’t let him leave. They strike a deal; he will get his freedom, but only if he solves a peculiar murder case.





	The Tale of Valerio Wicker

**Author's Note:**

> alternate summary: come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of pure imagination
> 
> for real tho i started writing this in 2015 and im amazed to look at the finished product. its a weird story ill admit but its finished so theres that! 
> 
> (sorry if the formatting is fucked up. ill try to fix it later)

Cold, wet asphalt digging into his back. The smell of rain. A dull throbbing in his head. His hand twitches and scrapes against the dirty ground. 

This is not where he's supposed to be.

Blearily, he opens his eyes and looks around. He's lying on a street he does not recognize surrounded by houses he also does not recognize. It's dark, late evening maybe, and the streetlights are on. 

Actually, the streetlights seem to be the  _ only _ light on.

He- Valerio, that's his name. His memory feels fuzzy in a worrying way, but at least he remembers that.

Valerio slowly gets to his feet, brushing gravel and dirt from his clothes. This place is entirely unfamiliar and strangely desolate. There's no one outside, no lights coming from the windows, no signs that anyone even  _ lives _ here. 

He starts walking, for lack of a better thing to do, down the street and around the corner where he finds tall apartment buildings, just as deserted as the houses. Cars are parked by the curb, perhaps never started, and posters taped up on the walls of some buildings are informing of coming events that may not happen. It's as if everyone had suddenly left in a hurry, leaving all belongings behind, but what could have caused an entire town to evacuate?

No, Valerio thinks while watching an abandoned bicycle sway dangerously in the wind, it's not as if everyone left at all. It's as if no one had ever been here in the first place.

As if his thoughts triggered it, a deafening gunshot rings out in the silence and seconds later a body falls to the ground in front of him.

\---

This time Valerio wakes with a start.

He sits up in the bed with his heart trying to beat out of his chest. A dream, a dream, a  _ dream _ . Just a dream. 

Heaving big gulps of air into his lungs he looks around.

He... doesn't recognize this room.

The feeling of  _ wrongness _ returns in full force and the only thing keeping Valerio from a full-blown breakdown is the door opening.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" an unfamiliar man with a tray of food says, smiling gently at him and it would have been reassuring, if not for his eyes.

Red. Shining crimson eyes like something out of a nightmare. He was vaguely aware of his heart rate picking up, blood pounding in his ears. Who-  _ what _ was this man? It felt like he could read his every thought,  _ see _ through him straight to his very core. Valerio quickly focused his gaze on the tray instead -  _ it wouldn't stop him _ \- and tried to speak through the lump in his throat. 

"Who-" The word came out a garbled mess and a coughing fit took over before he could continue. The strange man hurried over and brought a glass of what was hopefully water to his lips.

"Drink this, then ask your questions."

Throwing caution to the wind, he took a careful sip of the liquid. It tasted like water and it felt like heaven running down his throat which erased any concern from his mind. He downed the glass as fast as possible, ignoring the man's amused laugh when some of it spilled down his chin.

Valerio passed him the empty glass which he set on the nightstand before sitting down beside him on the bed.

"Who are you?" His voice is raspy, but at least it doesn't feel like he swallowed razor blades anymore. The man smiles wistfully at him and Valerio fixes his gaze firmly on the curve of his mouth. 

_ Don't let hi- _

"You don't remember?" 

Valerio shook his head.

"You'll get the memories back, I  **promise** ." That tranquil conviction startled him and his eyes unintentionally flickered up and then all he could see was red, red,  _ red _ . 

It was getting harder to think the longer he stared into those mesmerizing eyes, but he couldn't look away. His body refused to obey him. He was trapped and a voice from far away was telling him he should be scared, but why would he? This was, this was...

"Zared," the man,  _ Zared _ , added helpfully, the everpresent smile widening just a bit. "I'm your friend, remember?" 

Yes, yes that sounded right. Valerio's memories were still in a fog, but he felt like they'd been friends. The memory was right in front of him, so close he could almost feel it, but it slipped through his fingers as soon as he reached for it.

"You're safe here," Zared continued, taking one of Valerio's hands in his own. "I made all of this for  _ you. _ " 

The words made him pause, a crack in the carefully constructed wall around his mind.  _ Get away run now he'll-  _

"I don't-"  _ understand _ .

"You don't have to."

Valerio tried to look away, tried to  _ think _ , but the pounding in his head made it impossible. What did he mean by making this? Make what? What was going on?

"I-I..." He had to get the words out, had to make him understand. There was something... 

"I want..." Out of reach, out of bounds.  _ Why _ couldn't he remember? So many unknowns. Where was he? Why was he here? Who, what, where, when. Spot the difference, find the fault,  _ ask the right question. _

"I want to go home."

The reaction was instantaneous. Gone was the pleasant smile and soft tone, replaced by a cold stare that sent shivers down his spine. He distantly wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

"You are home, Valerio."

_ I'm not, I'm not, I'm not, I'm- _

"This  _ is _ your home Val, your room," Zared smiled gently at him again -  _ mending the mistake, too late he already  _ **_saw_ ** \- "Don't you remember?"

Did he forget? He couldn't remember... God, his  _ head. _ Feels like it'll explode, like he'll die any second now. Can't take it any longer, why won't it  _ stop _ ? 

_ Lying, he's lying don't trust him _ ,  **_LIAR-_ **

"Just  **_shut up!_ ** "

Warm hands carefully eased his own away from his head where they had been scratching away at the skin on his scalp. A moment later those same hands tilted his head up so he was once again staring into crimson eyes.

"I can help you, Valerio, but only if you let me," Zared said slowly, making sure the other could understand him through the pain. "Do you want me to help you?"

The voice somehow got even louder, as if someone had turned up the volume. It sounded... frantic, scared even, but Valerio couldn't make out any of the words. Too loud, too fast, too much  _ pain. _ A high-pitched whining took over his hearing. It pierced his brain like knives and it just wouldn't  _ stop. _ He could see Zared's mouth moving, could guess at some of the words he said, but he didn't really need to. 

_Yes or no, Valerio. You need to_ **_choose._**

He was dying, his brain slowly and painfully being ripped to shreds and the only one who could stop it was right in front of him. 

He just needed... permission.

For one short, wonderful second, the noise stopped and in that silence, the voice returned.

_ Permission to do what?  _

It sounded miserable and for some reason, Valerio felt like he had lost something very important before the noise returned and the only thing he could focus on was his head collapsing in on itself.

_Yes or no Yes or no Yes or no_ **_Yes or-_**

"Yes."

  
\---

For once, Valerio woke up exactly where he last remembered being. The room looked the same as before, except for the window beside the bed which had been left open to let in a mild breeze and the sound of birds chirping. It was sunny outside.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" 

The sudden noise startled him, but the sight of Zared standing in front of the door with a tray in his hands brought him far more fear. 

He hadn't even heard the door open.

"You remember!" he exclaimed with a delighted smile on his face.

"How-" 

"I was wondering if you'd make yourself forget again," Zared continued, completely unperturbed by Valerio's growing panic. "I'm glad you didn't." He set the tray on the nightstand and sat down beside him again, just like yesterday. He wondered if it was on purpose.

"What are you talking about?"  _ Again? _ Just how long had he been here? How many days had they been repeating this scene? What script were they following, and to what end?

"You don't need to worry, Val, I've taken care of everything," Zared said serenely and reached out to touch his cheek, however, he didn't get very far before Valerio reflexively slapped the hand away. All the air in the room seemed to disappear instantly and in that vacuum, he was only aware of his rapid heartbeat and the blank look on Zared's face. The seconds ticked by and Valerio was convinced they were counting down to his demise.

Slowly, Zared lifted his hand. No words were spoken, but Valerio understood the underlying message. His breath came in short puffs of air and if he wasn't careful it might evolve into hyperventilation. Zared's expression had yet to change and while he hadn't broken eye contact once Valerio felt like he wasn't really seeing what was in front of him. He couldn't stop the small sound that escaped him when the hand finally,  _ finally _ , cupped his face. The sound seemed to break through whatever trance Zared had fallen into and he smiled affectionately as if his fear was something charming.

"See? I won't  _ ever _ hurt you," he said and Valerio briefly wondered over the other's definition of 'hurt'. "Don't do that again."

It was a threat. A threat with no clear consequence, but a threat nonetheless and even if he hadn't known Zared for very long - as far as he knew at least - he could only assume he'd make good on it. The better option was to play along until another opportunity came, but to do that he'd need to know what his role was in this whole thing.

"Why am I here?" He'd have to choose his words carefully from now on. It wouldn't be very smart to piss him off again, once was more than enough.

Zared... Zared  _ laughed _ . A tinkling sound that did not in any way fit into the conversation at hand. "You're being silly!"

"What do you want from me?!" 

_ Shit _ . The raw emotions, the  _ fear _ , made it almost impossible to stay clear-headed. The only way he'd get through this was if he stayed detached, but the other's words and reactions made it damn hard not to lash out. 

The fact that Zared still hadn't let go of his cheek wasn't helping matters either.

"What  _ I _ want from  _ you- _ " Zared began, bringing their faces even closer together. This close, Valerio could make out all the tiny blemishes, all the faults that made him look more human than ever. Birthmarks, a hint of freckles around the nose, a small scar right above his lip. Signs of a life lived before all of this. 

Whatever  _ this _ was. 

"-is to be here, with me," he continued. His face twisted, as if in anguish. "I am  _ lonely _ , you see. A perfect world, created to be changed however one wished, so full of opportunity and yet so... lifeless." 

Zared sighed and finally released him from his iron grip. Valerio immediately scooted back on the bed to get as much distance between them as possible. Thankfully, Zared allowed it, though he seemed too lost in thought to even notice anyway. Such blatant hostility most likely wouldn't go unpunished any other time, but he'd rather not find out either way.

"I want so much more than you could possibly imagine," he said, eyes unfocused and voice distant. "I want  _ you _ ."

A very scared, very  _ dumb _ part of Valerio took over the use of his mouth and made him blurt out the first thing that came to mind after that declaration.

"What if I don't want that?"

Looking back, he probably blacked out for a few seconds because he had no clear memory of Zared's reaction other than a completely stunned expression. When he returned to his physical form from wherever the hell his mind had escaped to he was, surprisingly, still alive. Though to be fair, Zared didn't seem very likely to kill him based on his apparent creepy obsession with him. Valerio wasn't sure if this made things better or worse.

His hearing gradually trickled back in, though he didn't remember it ever leaving, and Zared's calm words washed over him without actually recognizing them. Something about what he'd like to eat maybe?

Valerio jerked back into consciousness. Was Zared ignoring what he'd said? Should he play along? But that would just bring him back to the stalemate of neither knowing what to do or what Zared's intentions were. Or... had he just imagined it? Was he absolutely certain he  _ had _ said it out loud and not just in his frantic thoughts? Doubt crept up his spine like a cold chill, freezing the very blood in his veins.

But it didn't matter.

Valerio took a deep, calming breath.

It didn't matter because nothing would change regardless of what had happened unless he  _ made _ it happen.

"Zared," Valerio cut in, interrupting his monologue on the pros and cons of a certain type of wine. "I want to go home."

For a second, he almost expected the other man to continue his 'you're already home' spiel. Instead, he simply tilted his head slightly to the side and searched his face for... something.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," Zared said quietly, voice completely devoid of emotion. He said it like it was so  _ easy _ , like it was a fact and not an opinion.

Distantly, Valerio acknowledged that he was afraid. This man who didn't seem entirely human terrified him in every way, but right now he didn't have time for fear.

"I refuse to stay here regardless of how much you want me to so either you show me the way out or I'll find it myself."

Silence descended upon the room. Not an oppressive sort of silence where both parties know the answer and are waiting for someone to make the first move. It was more like a contemplative silence. The calm before the storm. Zared was examining Valerio's statement from every angle and forming a decision accordingly. Valerio only had to wait for his verdict.

"Let's make a deal," Zared said suddenly, crimson eyes focused entirely on his.

A deal. The decision had been made, but it could also mean not deciding at all. A deal would give the choice away, leaving it up to chance. It didn't seem like something Zared would ever want, but here they were and a deal... a deal gave him a chance a decision wouldn't.

"You can go home if you can do one thing for me; solve the case of Ronald Opus."

  
\---

Ronald Opus, 32 years old, Caucasian, male. Cause of death: gunshot wound to the head.

Unfortunately, the case didn't turn out to be as simple as it looked, especially to someone without a criminology degree. 

Valerio frowned down at the file he'd been handed the moment he stepped into the police station. It was like they'd been waiting for his arrival, which they probably had. Zared's control of the world extended far beyond the inanimate it would seem. The file contained several papers, all of which were blank but one. No, not blank. Blurred. The text was there, but... smudged. Completely unreadable and he had no doubt it was by design. The only page with clear text was the report, though Valerio highly doubted the accuracy of it as it only included simple descriptions. It was very obviously made specifically for him and this situation. Just enough information to get an amateur investigation going without solving the case for him. 

Sighing, Valerio folded the report and stuffed it in his pocket. The police certainly wouldn't miss it, but he still felt a twinge of guilt. The file with the rest of the papers he left on the only vacant desk he'd found. He suspected he'd be returning to it sooner or later. 

It seemed it was time to inspect the scene of the crime.

  
\---

Every street he walked down led to the same place: a row of tall apartment buildings, a diner, and a playground combined with a park to top off the idyllic neighborhood. It would have been lovely if not for the grey sky casting dark shadows everywhere, heavy clouds on the very cusp of rain and the eerie silence that only came from a deserted place. Well, that, and the police tape.

Valerio looked up at the apartment building and was almost surprised to see that a few lights were on. He was even more surprised to see  _ movement _ behind the curtains. A quick glance around showed that the neighborhood was just as desolate as when he arrived. He did a quick count of the floors up to the lit window and sighed dejectedly before tugging the door open and beginning his trek up the stairs. 

_ Nine goddamn stories. _

Climbing the last step was a godsend. His legs ached and he breathed in ragged gasps, but it only lasted for a few moments and then it was just... gone. He felt the same as when he'd been at the bottom of the stairwell and was a bit disturbed that he could only muster up slight irritation that Zared hadn't bothered to help him five floors ago. A cold chill went down his spine at the discovery that distance didn't affect Zared or his powers.

There were four apartments on the ninth floor and conveniently only one had a door with a handle. Valerio could hear the muffled sounds of a tv inside the apartment, the smell of something cooking wafted out the door and reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything since he woke up. His stomach growled as if on cue and he rang the doorbell in childish defiance. He didn't have time for food right now. The door opened, revealing a kind-looking old lady and Valerio suddenly realized he hadn't even planned what he was going to say.

"I, um," he said. The woman's eyes went unfocused for a second before a warm smile spread across her face.

"You must be the detective!" she exclaimed, shaking his slack hand eagerly.

"What," Valerio said. The woman ignored him and instead pulled him inside the apartment.

"Harold, we have a guest!" she shouted. The only answer she got was an unintelligible grumble from the living room, almost drowned out by the tv set on an unreasonably high volume. "It's lovely to meet you. Would you like something to eat or drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"No, no, I'm fine-" Valerio hurried to assure but was ultimately betrayed by his stomach growling once again. The woman's eyes lit up and he knew he'd lost the battle before it had even begun.

"Have you eaten dinner? No? Oh, you poor thing, that just won't do. Come, come, I have some leftovers in the fridge I can heat up in a jiffy."

Valerio sighed in defeat and allowed himself to be dragged into the quaint little kitchen. The woman, Margaret, immediately set about to reheat the chicken and vegetables in a frying pan. At his confused look she responded "There are absolutely no microwaves in this household. I wouldn't trust those things with a stick, much less my food! Radio waves - Pah! Why use that when I have a perfectly functional alternative right here that won't get me sick?" 

"It's a miracle she hasn't thrown the oven out yet." An elderly man, Harold most likely, walked into the kitchen and sat down beside Valerio, offering a hand in greeting. 

"I'll have you know an oven is a completely different thing from a microwave," Margaret argued while moving the food to a plate and setting it down in front of Valerio together with cutlery she fished out of a drawer. "Now, eat up you poor thing. I can't believe they don't feed you over at the police station." He gratefully dug in, it had been so long since he last ate homecooked food. At least, he thought that was true. A stab of guilt slowed his frantic eating.

"Thank you so much for the food but... I'm not a detective." Margaret frowned in confusion.

"You're here about the death aren't you?"

"Well... yes."

"Then you must be the detective." Satisfied with her conclusion she continued the argument with her husband who seemed completely unperturbed by the interruption. Valerio mostly tuned the conversation out and instead focused on her choice of words. 'Detective'. Was that his role in this story? Had a hole been left intentionally blank for him to fill? It would certainly explain the police's unwavering trust and cooperation. 

In the end, it didn't really matter if he was right or not; just speculating the rules wouldn't further the game. Valerio pushed his plate away, catching the attention of his hosts. 

"What can you tell me about Ronald Opus?"

  
  


Valerio left the apartment building without really knowing where to go next. Margaret had been eager to help him and answered his every question while Harold had dozed off in his armchair. The case only brought him further confusion the more he learned about it.

Ronald Opus had, according to Margaret, gone up on the roof of the building and jumped to his death earlier that week. A suicide then, but there was still one detail that didn't add up to the story; the cause of death. Opus hadn't died from the fall, but from a gunshot wound so where exactly did the gun come into play?

Valerio breathed in the cool night air, a welcome relief from the hot and stuffy apartment he'd spent the better part of the evening in. He could feel a headache beginning to form and he vaguely wondered where he was supposed to sleep. Looking back at the building, he noticed something... odd.

Scaffolding. The wall it was standing against was only half-painted, brown could be seen peeking out at the top like a snake shedding skin, but that wasn't what had caught his eye. No, it was the safety net hanging high above the ground and the police tape surrounding it. He glanced up. A fall from that height would surely lead to death or heavy wounds, but with a net in the way... Opus wouldn't have died if he hadn't been interrupted. This wasn't a suicide, this was a murder.

\---

"Hadn't seen him in a few days before it happened," Roger, the owner of the diner just down the street where Opus had worked, said. "Seemed a bit bummed out 'bout something, but I didn't ask. Figured it was none of my business, y'know?"

"I see, well, thanks for your time." Valerio sighed. Another dead end.

"Have you been over to his place yet? Might find something the police didn't notice," Roger suggested casually, though it sounded rather forced. A small sign of Zared's influence. For all the traces of him, Valerio hadn't seen the man himself yet. It had been days and he couldn't help but feel anxious - like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Roger gave him the directions to Opus' apartment and Valerio thanked him again before making his way to the door. The diner was empty - the whole  _ town _ was empty, except for where it was needed. No customers getting a late lunch or waiters to get their orders. It just felt wrong seeing Roger all alone, wiping down the spotless counter. He wondered if it was too much work populating the entire town or if Zared wasn't even able to do it. 

Valerio was just about to open the door when he met the gaze of his reflection. He froze and he swore his heart stopped beating because instead of seeing his own two hazel eyes staring back at him one was a terrible, burning  _ red _ . Suddenly, he understood how Zared could know when to give a hint. He'd just assumed it was part of his power by being the creator of this world, but now it made so much  _ sense _ . What better way to keep an eye on things than literally using an eye?

He felt... scared, utterly terrified, but at the same time, he was  _ furious _ . At both himself for not figuring it out earlier and Zared for, for  _ infecting him.  _ Valerio wasn't sure what the eye fully entailed, but he knew  _ enough _ . He knew that the bastard was obsessed with him and that he'd planted a part of himself inside him to assert his fucking claim. As if it wasn't enough to trap him in a world of his own creation, empty except for the two of them with no way out other than some useless quest to solve a fake murder case.

Pain brought Valerio back from his rage-filled haze. There was glass everywhere and his hand was bleeding, but it was a dull kind of pain and it grounded him, showed him it was real. A quick glance back showed Roger standing by the counter obliviously, still wiping as if nothing had happened.

Valerio side-stepped the glass with his hand cradled to his chest, smearing blood all over his shirt, and left the diner.

  
\---

Valerio Wicker had only recently found out what his last name was, but it wasn't a very pleasant memory. 

_ "What's my last name?" _

_ "Wicker." _

_ "And... what's yours?" _

_ "What is yours is mine. You'd better remember that." _

He regretted asking it now. He regretted a lot of things lately. Sometimes, it was better not knowing. Sometimes all knowledge brought was pain and ignorance truly was bliss. But there was no use dwelling on the past, especially since he didn't even know if it was true or not. Yet, he clung to the name, used it as an incentive, a catalyst of sorts, and added it to his mantra.

_My name is probably_ _Valerio Wicker. I do not belong here. I_ will _get out._

_ Solve the case, get out. Solve the case, get out. Solve the case. Solve the case. _

Valerio sighed and leaned back against the wall, letting the cold seep into his back. He had no idea how long he'd been here anymore. In the beginning, he'd been determined not to lose himself and kept a close eye on the days as they passed, but after a while, they just tangled together and he quickly lost count. It certainly hadn't helped that some days the sky was dark as night regardless of what time it was. He suspected sabotage.

A shiver went up his spine and Valerio squeezed his eyes shut, dreading what comes next.  _ Speak of the devil and he shall appear _ .

"Valerio, just as lovely as always I see,"  **_he_ ** purred and Valerio could hear footsteps getting closer. Bracing himself for the inevitable, he opened his eyes.

"Zared." Short, unfeeling, barely even a greeting. It summed up his feelings towards the man perfectly.

"How have you been?" A hand reached out and gently caressed his cheek, moving up his face and sliding under the strings holding his eye patch in place, lifting it up a bit to expose the crimson eye under. At first, he'd just tied a piece of cloth over his face, happy to have at least a semblance of privacy. The next day he'd found the eye patch on a table. He almost threw it away the moment he saw it. Almost.

"Unpleasant at best."

An understatement, considering he'd found a suicide note in Opus' apartment. Even when he knew all these people were fake a part of him still empathized with them. It was human nature, he told himself. None of this was real and he was aware of that fact, but his feeble human mind stubbornly acted as if these were living, breathing people. Nothing more, nothing less.

Either way, the note hadn't really given him much to work on, but that wasn't exactly new. It seemed like it might be a case of weirdly assisted suicide, though he felt like there were still so many puzzle pieces missing. None of it made sense and he couldn't be sure of anything.

"Would you like a hint?" Zared asked after fully removing the eye patch and stepping back to admire his work, a pleased little smile on his face. Valerio suppressed the urge to close his eyes, refusing to show any sign of vulnerability.

"Depends on what it'll cost me."

"I'm feeling generous, think of it as a gift." Oh, he knew  _ all _ about Zared's supposed 'gifts', too much in fact, but he was tired in the bone-weary sense of the word and all he wanted was for this to finally  _ end.  _ Against his better judgment, he accepted.

" _ The gun is still in the building. _ "

Everything after that was a blur, like he'd blacked out or something. One minute he was standing against a wall and the next he was back at the apartment building with no memory of how he got there. Zared was gone at least and he'd even dropped him off on the ninth floor this time. Small mercies.

Truthfully, Valerio hadn't even considered that the shooter  _ or _ the weapon could still be at the scene of the crime. It was logical to expect them to flee and destroy any of the more obvious evidence an amateur like him could find after the deed was done, but then again, this wasn't real life. It was more like a simulation with a pre-determined narrative and he'd been a fool to assume otherwise. It was a puzzle, a test, but what was Zared testing? What did he want to achieve with all of this?

The sound of a scuffle and heated arguing brought him back to the present. He was standing in front of the old couples' apartment, the rest of the doors still missing their handles, and a spike of worry shot through him before he could stop it.  _ They aren't  _ **_real_ ** . The voices increased in volume, blowing past 'arguing' straight into shouting. His hand suddenly developed a mind of its own, opening the door completely without his permission and urging his feet to join the rebellion. Two steps and he was in the hall, six more to get into the living room where Margaret and Harold stood on either side of the couch, screaming their heads off at each other. Margaret looked close to tears while Harold was holding a fucking  _ gun _ .

A mix of instinct and adrenaline forced him to step forward and push Margaret behind him. He was barely aware of anything except for the shotgun held in Harold's feeble hands. It would look comical if it wasn't pointed straight at him. Fear definitely won over the amusement. 

"Put the gun down, Harold," Valerio said slowly, with only a tiny bit of tremor to reveal how terrified he was. He briefly wondered if Zared would allow him to be shot. To his surprise, Harold actually followed his command and lowered the gun, looking oddly... embarrassed?

"It's not what you think," Margaret began, also looking slightly ashamed as she walked over to her husband. This was certainly the weirdest case of domestic violence he'd ever heard of. "It's not loaded, see? No harm could be done." Harold opened up the gun to show that it was indeed empty. Loaded or not, it was pretty messed up to point a shotgun at your spouse regardless of your intentions, but the adrenaline from the situation left him far too drained to argue. Valerio sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh. 

"We were just arguing and- well, Harold he-"

"I don't," he paused, trying to find a nicer way to convey he just didn't  _ care _ about this made-up interspousal spat that ultimately did not matter in the grand scheme of things. Somehow he managed to communicate his disinterest wordlessly since Margaret fell silent.

He'd found the gun. He'd found  _ a  _ gun at least, and hopefully, it was  _ the _ gun too. Strangely, he didn't feel any of the triumph or relief he imagined when he was this close to solving the case and getting out. Worry gnawed in his stomach, chewing up any positive feelings he managed to muster. It just seemed too  _ easy _ . Something wasn't adding up.

Valerio stood up and turned towards Harold who hadn't moved an inch. It was like he was frozen in time, but jerked awake the moment Valerio focused his attention on him.

"Did you shoot Ronald Opus?"

Harold blinked. "No, I, I never keep it loaded."

"But he died from a shotgun blast and unless there's some other person in this building who conveniently owns one of those I can only assume it was  _ this  _ shotgun that killed him. Let me rephrase the question: did you fire this gun on the day Ronald Opus died?"

The man swallowed nervously and refused to meet his eyes.

"Yes," he breathed out as if it would cease to be true the quieter he spoke. Valerio opened his mouth but was interrupted before he could say anything.

"He didn't do it!" Margaret exclaimed, putting a reassuring hand on her husband's shoulder. "He didn't load the gun and he didn't mean to pull the trigger, that means it wasn't murder!" She glanced over at Valerio. "Right?" Valerio probably knew as much as her about what counts as murder, but he felt now wasn't the time to mention that. 

"Well, someone obviously did load the gun so who  _ did _ ?" he snapped. The frustration was getting to him, but he was  _ so close _ to figuring it all out he couldn't stop now.

Margaret and Harold shared a look, silently communicating something between them that made Margaret's eyes widen in shock.

"No..." Margaret sank down on the couch, clasping her hands in front of her face. Her eyes looked distinctly glassy and she let out an unsteady breath when her husband put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's the only person that could have done it, Marge," Harold said gently. She let out a choked sob and Valerio contemplated just leaving them alone in this private moment, but ultimately his needs outweighed any guilt he felt.

"Who was it, Harold? Who loaded the gun?" The man looked uncomfortable, to say the least, torn between focusing on the interrogation or comforting his wife. 

"Our son. He has the only other key to our apartment, it-" he swallowed thickly and looked down at Margaret. "It has to be him."

"Your son? Where is he then? I have to talk to him." 

Suddenly, it stopped.  _ It _ being everything, or maybe just something. Valerio wasn't sure what happened, only that it felt, well, weird. For a split second, it was like the world stopped turning. The very air he breathed felt thin, like he wasn't getting enough oxygen, but still a step away from suffocating. And then the second was over and it, everything, started again. He stumbled a bit at the sudden lurch in motion, unsure of what exactly was moving to cause it. Valerio didn't notice the abrupt shift in Harold before the man was not so gently steering him towards the door.

"Hey, I'm not done yet!"

"We have answered enough of your questions, detective, now it's time for you to leave," Harold hissed and Valerio could see both anger and hurt in his eyes. "You have accused both me and my son of murder in the span of an hour so I think I have a right to be upset. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a wife to attend to. Good day." A sob escaped from the living room right before Harold slammed the door in his face to really hammer in the point. It certainly did the job as Valerio felt  _ terrible _ .

They aren't real. You have nothing to feel guilty about. They're puppets. It's not  _ real _ .

Better add it to the mantra, he thought bitterly as he trudged over to the stairwell. At least now he only had to find the son and the case would be solved. Hopefully.

\---

Finding the son turned out to be much easier said than done since Valerio's only clue to his identity was the first names of his parents. According to a phonebook he'd found at the police station, there lived 35 Margarets and a whopping 49 Harolds in this fictional town and while he now could walk around without ending up at the same place the streets seemed to be ever-moving, never staying in one place for longer than it took to walk from one end to the other. He couldn't even find his way back to the apartment complex and it was really starting to get on his nerves.

At least out of all those Margarets and Harolds, 19 lived on the same address which certainly narrowed it down a bit, and two couples even lived on the same street. Valerio had gone out on expeditions every day but came back with very little results. It was disheartening, to say the least, when he looked at his list and saw a mere four names crossed out. All this just to find the man's damn name.

It was five days after his last meeting with the couple when Valerio wondered if the lack of human contact was affecting his mind. He was sitting in the police station where he had spent most of his time when he wasn't outside trying to navigate the streets. The police station, which, coincidentally, was the only place he'd found so far that contained  _ people _ , or whatever you could call Zared's puppets. He was attempting to put together a map of sorts - a useless endeavor, but it kept him busy - and simply soaking up the sound of conversation. It felt... normal. It made  _ him _ feel normal. The sounds wrapped around him like a blanket, assuring him he wasn't alone - a stark contrast to the deafening silence of the outside. He dreaded going out there again.

Maybe that's what Zared wanted, and wasn't that a terrifying thought? Was he being conditioned to stay inside, to seek out any human contact he could get? At any moment Zared could make all the people in the police station disappear and then what would he do? With a dawning apprehension, Valerio realized that would break him.

In an attempt to steer his mind away from these troubling thoughts Valerio started getting ready to head out. The backpack he'd found waiting for him right next to the phonebook filled up quickly; the notebook with his list of addresses, a thermos filled with coffee he'd taken from the station's cafeteria, some food, mostly sandwiches, he'd found lying around. Everything he needed for his expeditions located just a few steps away.

Looking at the door leading out, Valerio could feel the familiar anxiety creeping in, enveloping his body like vines and feeding memories to his brain. He shuddered thinking about the cold empty streets, the despair it brought.  _ No one is coming to save you. You're all alone.  _ God, he wanted to go home.

Hefting the backpack over his shoulder, he went out the door.

  
\---

On day 12 he made his first major breakthrough. The streets had a  _ pattern _ . It was like a puzzle; one street only connected with a certain amount of other streets meaning they weren't entirely randomized. Both ends of the street didn't lead to the same place which meant they worked like train tracks, periodically switching lanes. Valerio immediately implemented this into his map project, cutting out streets and numbering them.

Cherry Lane was number one, the street with the police station. It led to number two, Blackwood Street, while the other end led to St. Jude's Road. After that, it started to branch out in increasingly complex ways like the roots of a plant. One road could lead to as few as three and as many as eight He'd already found a few dead ends (numbers 23, 28 and 31) and even one place where the two sides connected (number 35 and number 44). Valerio assumed it was made to confuse him, trap him in a loop, but Zared probably wasn't expecting him to make a  _ map  _ of all things.

There were only eight addresses left on the list and Valerio felt good about his progress. Of course, that would be the moment the bastard decided to check up on him. 

The station door opening immediately alerted him to  **_his_ ** presence. None of the police ever left, they weren't programmed to go outside. There was only one other person in this world that could use it.

"What do you want." Valerio didn't look up from his map, hoping his disinterest would make the other leave faster. It hadn't worked yet, but sixth time's the charm, right?

"Such hostility," Zared snickered, his steps slow and controlled, almost entirely silent. "What happened to the Valerio that was so desperate to stay on my good side?"

"Sorry to disappoint." A hand carded through his hair and made him stiffen, but a small traitorous part of him wanted to lean into the touch. The isolation was absolutely done by design and he hated that it  _ worked _ .

"Oh, you could never disappoint me, Valerio." Zared was so warm, so  _ comforting _ , it was unfairly hard not to tilt his head to get more of that wonderful feeling. He gritted his teeth and slapped the hand away, pointedly ignoring the stab of pain at the loss of contact. Zared just looked amused at the action, as if he knew how much effort it took to step away. 

"My, look who's been working hard," he said instead, eyeing the map with great interest. "You figured it out far quicker than I expected. I'm so proud of you." Valerio could feel his face heating up from the praise and no matter how much he wished -  _ begged _ \- for it to go unnoticed he knew it was impossible to hide anything from the man in his own domain. Shame and embarrassment filled his body, a burning liquid running down his throat to his stomach, settling there like a coiled snake just waiting for the right moment to crawl back out. 

"What did you want, Zared?" he asked quietly, voice cracking slightly at the end. 

"I just wanted to see you," Zared replied and he sounded so gentle, so loving. Valerio didn't know how much more of that he could take. "I'm sad to say our game is nearing its conclusion, but I have to warn you; you might not like how it ends."

Valerio looked up sharply. "You can't go back on your word, you  _ promised! _ "

"I would never break a vow, Valerio. Our deal still stands," Zared assured, making Valerio let out a sigh of relief.

_ Solve the case, get out.  _

"Good luck. I believe in you."

He was gone by the time Valerio looked up again and he wasn't sure whether he felt relief the other had finally left or despair that he was alone again.

_ Solve the case. _

  
\---

He'd done it. He'd found the street. It had taken him God knows how long, but he'd done it. He never thought he'd be so happy to see that shitty diner again. A closer look revealed that, yes, Roger was still standing there, still wiping like no time had passed at all. Passing by the diner he walked past the park with its playground, the swingset creaking on rusty chains, crying out for someone to use them. Or just crying out for some oil. Jesus, this place had made him melodramatic as hell.

Valerio stopped, looking up at the building looming over him. It looked exactly the same as before. No one had come to finish painting the wall, the scaffolding still stood and the safety net swung slightly in the wind. He sighed at the thought of climbing all the stairs again, but when he opened the door to the building he wasn't met by the base of the staircase. The door, oddly enough, led directly to a familiar hallway with its four doors. He closed it again and when he looked in through the window he only saw the staircase right where it was supposed to be. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he simply walked in and firmly ignored the connotation that Zared had somehow heard his complaints from the last time.

Passing through the doorway felt... strange. Like something silky caressed his skin or walking through a very thin layer of water without getting wet. It made his skin crawl, invisible hands brushing against every part of his body for the few seconds it took to walk through, but he figured it was better than climbing the stairs. At least that's what he tried to convince himself.

Standing in front of the door to the apartment Valerio wondered what exactly he was going to say. 'Hello, remember me? Quick question; I was just wondering what your last names are so I can find your son whom I may or may not have accused of murder the last time I was here'. They may not be real people, but they still acted like they were which probably meant he couldn't say just anything if he wanted some answers. He wasn't about to test that theory now though. One wrong move and he could possibly be flung back to the police station and be forced to find the damn place again. Sighing, he decided to throw caution to the wind and knocked on the door. He was far too tired to bother with small talk.

Once again it was Margaret who opened the door. She looked tired, haggard like she hadn't gotten enough sleep in ages. She didn't say anything to him, simply gazed at him knowingly for a moment before gesturing him inside. It was disconcerting to see her like this, so far from the woman he'd met just a few weeks ago, but he guessed he looked about the same himself. Margaret led him into the living room where Harold sat in his chair, staring listlessly at the muted tv. He didn't look up when they walked in, barely even twitched as Margaret sat down on the couch beside him. Valerio stood awkwardly to the side and tried to muster up the will to bring up the elephant in the room. He was so close to the end of the game, and yet he hesitated. All he had to do was ask for the name and then he'd look up the son's address and hopefully he'd be there. Then it'd all be over.

Or would it? Something told him there weren't any more puzzles to figure out after this and Zared didn't seem like someone to go back on their word. If he was honest, Valerio wasn't sure the man even  _ could _ . He was like a creature from some fairytale; masterfully spinning webs with their words to trap their victims, but at the same time trapping themselves. They could not lie, but they were experts at finding loopholes in their own rules. Either way, Valerio had to work on the assumption that Zared would keep his promise. He didn't know what he'd do if Zared had lied, if he was just a man without imaginary restrictions. He didn't want to think about it, so he convinced himself that Zared's word was law. Why then did he have the nagging feeling that he was missing something excruciatingly vital?

Resurfacing from his troubling thoughts Valerio found that nothing had happened. The couple still sat in their seats and stared out into space, completely oblivious to the outside world, like machines set on standby. He suspected even the reality show playing on the tv had not progressed any further since he last looked at it, but that might also be the nature of such shows. 

Valerio straightened his back and cleared his throat, better to get this over with already so he could finish the investigation. The other two turned towards him immediately as if they had been waiting for him to speak up. It was incredibly unsettling to watch their bodies move like marionettes and their empty gazes fixate on him. Didn't Zared care enough to at least attempt to make them seem more human anymore? But then again, wasn't this what he'd wanted? In theory, it was a lot easier to distance himself from the  _ others _ if they weren't very convincing and it was, but he somehow hadn't realized just how creepy it was in practice. 

"I... wanted to ask you something," Valerio began and he was almost surprised over how uncertain he sounded. He knew exactly what he needed to know and what to ask. Why was he hesitating? Neither Margaret nor Harold answered him and his discomfort only grew in the silence. "I just... I-" He cut himself off, breathed in and then out again. Calm, he had nothing to worry about. Breathe in. It was just a question and an innocent one at that. Breathe out. What's your name? In. What's your last name? Out. What is your full name? In. What is your son's name? Out.

"What is your last name?" he asked them, or maybe more in their general direction. It came out in a rush and for a second he worried that they wouldn't be able to hear him before he realized it didn't matter. They all knew what he'd ask, it was only a matter of getting over the threshold. Making the  **choice** .

Finally,  _ finally, _ he got a reaction. Margaret seemed to snap out of her trance and actually  _ looked  _ at him. Her eyes focused and her face flittered rapidly between several different emotions. Confusion, understanding, despair, sorrow, pity.

"Are you sure you want to know that?" she asked gently, kindly, the very picture of sympathy as she leaned forward and took his hand in hers. 

Valerio hesitated. Did he want to? Of course he did, it was the only way out of here. It was his goal, the only thing keeping him sane, but why would she ask that? Why did she look at him like she actually felt bad for him? Everything about this made him feel uneasy. 

_ You know it's Zared talking to you,  _ he told himself.  _ He's tricking you into thinking there's a trap. He's desperate. He knows he's about to lose.  _ It didn't ease his anxiety in the slightest, but in the end, he didn't have much of a choice. Either stay ignorant, forever wandering this empty world until he inevitably broke or take the chance. 

He made the choice.

"Yes," he said, trying in vain to suppress all the memories of a situation eerily similar to this. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn't agreed, if he'd just gone along with what Zared wanted instead of going on this wild goose chase. Would he have come to accept his place by Zared's side? His loss of freedom? Of privacy? Would he stop despising his right eye? Would he no longer see it as a symbol of Zared's obsession but a gift instead? He didn't know what he'd choose if he was given the option again today and that scared him.

Margaret's grip on his hand tightened and he was startled to see the tears in her eyes.

"Detective I'm so sorry. I know it won't change anything, but please know I would never wish this on anyone," she begged him desperately. She was like a prisoner on death row trying to amend for their every mistake seconds before being dragged away to the chair. It went against everything he'd thought he knew about the inhabitants of this world. This was not the way a doll would act so was this a real person with actual thoughts and feelings or was Zared just trying to confuse him even more? It worked, judging by the way his thoughts tangled together in a hopeless ball of yarn like the worst case of outsmarting oneself.

"Don't give up, Detective. Whatever you do,  _ don't give up, don't-"  _ Margaret stopped suddenly, her eyes clouding over once again and her mouth moved like she was talking but no sound came out. She had diverged from the script and now Zared was bringing her back on track. 

"My name..." Margaret said, but it wasn't her, not really. It was nothing more than a shell carrying out Zared's wishes. "is Margaret Opus." 

For a split second Valerio thought he had heard wrong, that he had made a mistake and just had to ask her to repeat it again. There was no way Margaret's last name was Opus because that would mean her son's name was Opus too. It didn't make sense. He  _ had _ to be wrong.

But he wasn't and no matter how much he denied it he knew it too. The son's name was Opus and unless there was some fourth unknown member of the family running around his first name was probably Ronald. Ronald Opus, the son. Ronald Opus, the murder victim. Ronald Opus, the murderer. 

This was it, the end of the line. There were no more clues to find, no more puzzles to solve. But where was Zared? Valerio had expected him to appear the moment he solved the case and yet he was still nowhere to be found. Unless... Unless he hadn't solved the case yet. He'd found the son, yes, but there was still the question as to  _ why  _ he would load the gun that would cause his death in the end. And who would know better than his mother? 

"Margaret, your son... Ronald Opus was your son wasn't he?" he asked, but got no response. She was practically catatonic, so still he could barely see her breathing. Nothing would shake her from this state. Nothing but the right questions. 

"Why did your son load the gun?" 

Margaret jolted back into action, eyes flickering like a robot rebooting. 

"My... My son, he... Ronald was angry, you see, angry at me and my husband. For a long time, we had supported him financially, just until he found a better job. Helping him pay rent or buy groceries. Little things. Then he never found a new job and I know he's my son, but both me and Harold have retired so we couldn't possibly continue like this. I-" She paused, fresh tears glittering in her eyes. 

"I cut him off, told him he had to make his own money. He got upset, but I didn't think much of it. I assumed he was worried about making ends meet without our help. I never thought he'd- that he was  _ capable  _ of, of any of this!" 

And now with all the puzzle pieces in place, the story was complete. Ronald Opus had been furious after his parents cut off his financial support and knowing his father's penchant for threatening his wife with an unloaded shotgun, he took his chance at getting rid of her. But then, the moment never came. Day after day, argument after argument and still Harold didn't pull the trigger. 

Disappointed over his failure in having his mother killed he fell deeper into his depression and with the bills piling up suicide seemed a tempting answer to his problems. He wrote a note, climbed to the roof of his parent's apartment building and jumped, unaware of the safety net that would catch him before he hit the ground. In a sick twist of events this would be the day his plan finally worked and a shotgun blast from the very gun he had loaded would end his life that day. 

But what did this mean for the case? Yes, he'd figured out what had happened that day and the events that led up to it, but how would you even begin to classify this? Murder? Manslaughter? Suicide? Something else entirely? It was practically impossible! 

That's when it hit him; it  _ was  _ impossible. That was the  _ point,  _ had been the entire time. An unsolvable case designed to have him running around in circles. A paradox in a way. While it wasn't 'unsolvable' in his mind - he  _ had  _ figured it all out after all - it was obvious what Zared's definition of solved meant. 

Valerio hated that he could feel the moment  _ he _ appeared, his tainted eye burning like it knew its owner was near. He wanted to feel angry, wanted to lash out, scream until his throat was sore and claw at that undoubtedly smug face. Instead, he just felt... tired. 

He turned around to face him, to get this over with. There weren't enough curse words in the world to describe Zared and what he meant to him. 

"Valerio," Zared said and he'd never hated anyone more for saying his name. 

"You were never going to let me leave were you?" he snapped. The time for polite conversation was over. He didn't care about staying on Zared's good side anymore; he wanted answers. 

Zared simply smiled at him. 

"No," he said serenely. "Why would I? This is your  _ home,  _ Valerio, why can't you realize that?" 

"Because it isn't my home! I have a family somewhere and I need to get back to them!" 

The same old argument every single time. Valerio was really starting to tire of this. 

"But how do you know that? You can't remember anything, can you? Nothing except for a name. You say you have a family, but can you tell me your mother's name? Your father's? How about this: do you have any siblings or are you an only child? Tell me anything about your family and I'll let you go to them."

And that was it wasn't it? He  _ didn't  _ remember, so how could he possibly know he had a family somewhere? He couldn't, plain and simple. Valerio had avoided thinking about this particular question ever since he'd woken up that first time and now here it was, terrifyingly real. 

" I... I can't... " Can't remember, can't answer, can't dispute. Zared knew exactly what buttons to push. 

"Exactly. And that's why I can't let you go; you don't  _ know  _ anything about your life before this, about anywhere other than here. But I can tell you. You only have to ask it of me." 

A tempting offer. Everything he'd ever wondered practically laid out on a plate, but he'd gone down that road before. Who knew what he'd lose in return this time? Besides-

"How do I know you're not lying?" 

"You don't. However, whether you believe me or not won't change my mind. You'll realize I'm right eventually, I just have to be patient," Zared stated simply, his expression not changing from that friendly smile. 

What the  _ actual fuck did that mean?  _ He could feel a headache forming from trying to process all of this. Zared's grand plan was keeping him here until he agreed? What kind of fucked up thinking was  _ that _ ? Valerio didn't know much about Stockholm syndrome, but he knew enough to know there was a very high chance for it to happen to him too given enough time. 

"I hate you. I  _ hate you!  _ This was all a  _ test, _ wasn't it? See how much your new toy could take before it inevitably broke!" Valerio didn't fucking  _ care  _ that he was yelling at this point. He was just so  _ angry.  _ There was fear there too, yes. Fear of the future, of what would happen to him, how or even  _ if _ he could get out of this. But the blood boiling anger was consuming him steadily, making his heart pound in his chest and every muscle in his body tense up.  _ God _ , he wanted to punch Zared in his fucking smiling face. 

"A test? Oh, Valerio, this wasn't a test. All this was to show you what I can do - what  _ we  _ can do - with this world," Zared said and he sounded so earnest, like he actually believed what he was saying. Like he was doing him a goddamn  _ favor.  _

"Why are you doing this? Why me? Why-" He cut himself off because all of a sudden Zared was standing right in front of him and now that he thought about it they weren't even in Margaret's and Harold's apartment anymore. When had they moved? Where even were they? He could barely understand their surroundings, much less describe it. They were in a sort of room, or more like a box, but it was ever-changing. One moment Valerio thought he was standing in some generic hotel room and the next he only caught a glimpse of a bar counter before it was replaced by an empty warehouse. On and on it went, never staying in one place for longer than seconds. It was disorienting, but what was even more disorienting was Zared moving even closer and cupping his face in his hands. He was hit by a feeling of deja vu, but it was kind of hard to concentrate when he could  _ feel  _ Zared's breath on his face. 

"I've told you before, Valerio," Zared said quietly while idly stroking his cheek. "I'm all alone here and you will be the perfect companion - in time. I will do  **_anything_ ** to make you happy and I only ask one little thing in return; stay with me." 

_ Is that a threat or a promise?  _ Just the certainty in the other's words was enough to send a shiver down his spine. It was becoming increasingly clear how deeply rooted Zared's obsession was, to what lengths he'd go to acquire what he wanted. 

"Why can't you understand that I don't want that?" Valerio asked even though he knew it wouldn't make a difference. Zared didn't care what he wanted regardless of what he claimed. He wanted another doll to play with, someone that emulated consciousness well enough without actually exhibiting free will. The only thing he could do was fight him at every turn, never giving up, never giving in. Zared wanted a new toy? Fine. But this toy wasn't about to just lay down and take it. 

"All you've shown me is that this place is a goddamn  _ prison  _ and no matter how long you keep me here I'll  _ never  _ be happy with you," Valerio hissed, slapping away Zared's hand. 

"Never is such a strong word. With enough time even the tallest of mountains are whittled down into nothing. I expect the same goes for humans,” Zared said before taking a step back to simply observe him for a moment. The intense scrutiny made Valerio highly uncomfortable, but he was relieved of the newfound space between them. It gave him time to observe his surroundings again which had decided to stay the same for now. Instead of an alternating room they were now located somewhere… white. There was not much more to say about it, just white as far as the eye could see. Valerio couldn’t tell where the room - if it was a room - started and ended, if it had walls or a roof or even a  _ floor _ . They could be standing in thin air for all he knew, suspended in time until Zared decided to let them drop, plummeting down into the unknown.

Zared’s eyes narrowed and he frowned like he’d just learned something he didn’t like.

"Hm, it seems you need a bit more time. Well, in that case, I'll ask you again later." 

And with that he turned around and disappeared into the whiteness, leaving Valerio all alone. 

His first reaction was to follow him, but no matter how fast or long he ran he couldn't even get a glimpse of the man. Either the entire place was covered in a fog too thick to see through or Zared had simply left. Valerio decided to keep walking anyway, hoping to eventually hit a wall if he just kept going in the same direction. After approximately 14 minutes of walking with no change to the surroundings he considered that there may not  _ be _ a wall. A short pause later he concluded that it didn't really matter since there wasn't much else to do. 

He walked until his feet hurt and then he walked some more. Only when his legs shook with exhaustion did he stop and sit down. He wondered if this was what Zared had meant by asking him later, if he thought leaving him in what almost amounted to a sensory deprivation chamber would make him more amenable.

While he sat there Valerio noticed that the white fog in front of him seemed more… solid than before. Tentatively, he reached out with his hand and to his surprise his fingers actually made contact with a wall. As if his touch had activated it, the wall flickered to life. It looked to be a screen of some sort, or maybe a window, showing the image of a familiar room. 

He barely had any time to register that fact before the view moved slightly to the side. The screen was now focused on the door to the room and the man standing in front of it. 

"Oh good, you're awake," Zared said, smiling gently at the screen, at  _ him _ . Was this a memory? A film reel of his time trapped in Zared's world to keep him entertained? Suddenly he heard a voice,  _ his voice _ , coming from nowhere and everywhere at once, but that couldn't be right because Valerio knew for a fact he'd barely spoken when they first met. Was the film incorrect? That wasn't like Zared at all so why did he clearly hear himself speak? 

"Red. Shining crimson eyes like something out of a nightmare," the other him said and something about it seemed familiar. "Feels like he can read my every thought, see right through me. Look away, look away quick!" 

"It won't stop him," Valerio muttered bitterly at the screen. The moment he said it the screen shook just slightly, like a twitch. He frowned. The screen was obviously showing what he'd seen through his own eyes, but something wasn't adding up. It couldn't be a recording of the events since there were some errors, specifically him speaking when he hadn't before. There was still something off about the things he'd said too. He didn't remember saying them, but he did remember  _ thinking _ them. 

The puzzle pieces slid into place. 

This wasn't a recording. It was a live feed. 

The past version of himself drank the water that was offered him while the real him wondered how all of this fit together. Was he even right in calling himself the 'real' version? He was sure past him would argue that he was real too, but how could two Valerios exist at the same time? And as he'd established it wasn't a recording that meant what he saw wasn't the past at all, it was the present. 

"Who are you?" the other him asked, pulling him out of his reverie. Zared's face practically lit up at the question and Valerio's skin crawled. 

"Don't-" he began, barely even aware he was talking out loud. "Don't do this, don't let him trick you!"

"You don't remember?" 

The screen shook its denial. 

"You'll get the memories back, I  **promise** ."

And he remembered this part. He remembered looking up into those red eyes and feeling like he was falling endlessly. Now he had to watch the other him make that same mistake and fall under Zared's spell, unable to stop it in any way. His disembodied voice rang out in the silence like a confused ghost that didn't know it was dead. 

"Who… who is this? Do I know him? This was, this was…" 

"Zared. I'm your friend, remember?" 

Valerio wanted to scream, wanted to tell the other him of everything that had happened. Maybe they had been friends at some point like Zared claimed - he didn't know if the feeling that they had was his or a fabrication and he likely never would - but they sure as hell weren't friends now. 

"You're safe here, I made all this for  _ you. _ " 

It cracked. The screen  _ cracked _ , a thin line running down the middle, just enough for him to see through. At first glance it didn't look like there was anything behind it, the same scene being projected now with a gash through it, but something about it looked clearer and when he touched it he felt a faint breeze coming from inside. And if he could see more clearly that probably meant the other him could  _ hear _ clearer too. 

Valerio pressed his lips to the crack and prayed to whoever was listening that his assumption was correct. 

"Get away! Run! He'll trap you here if you don't-" 

An odd sound cut him off, kind of like bones cracking painfully in an empty room. 

_ I don't understand.  _

It came from the crack in the screen and when he peeked through he saw a thin film of  _ something  _ weaving together, mending the break. 

_ You don't have to.  _

Of course Zared wouldn't allow even the smallest sign of a lack of control, but the crack was still there. Did that mean fixing it fully was more than even he could do? Either way, it was a weak spot, the screen not nearly as thick as everywhere else and he would exploit it as much as possible. And if he could get even more cracks to form, the better his chances were of getting through to the other him. 

He heard himself try to string his words together while his thoughts danced teasingly out of his grasp, whispering encouragements through the gash. 

"Come on, ask the right question." 

_ I want to go home.  _

Zared's perfect mask cracked just like the screen, showing his true face. It wasn't often Valerio got to see this part of him and he was more than happy with that. He much preferred it when Zared pretended. The game was easy to play along with and there were rules to be followed. A Zared that didn't play along the rules didn't bear thinking about. 

_ You are home, Valerio.  _

His thoughts ran a mile a minute. No, not his thoughts, the other one. They had been his at one point, but now they were not. It was confusing, even more so as he heard his own words echo around the empty room, begging for an explanation 

Zared smiled his charming smile and told his lies, but it wasn't as smooth, as seamless as before as if he was desperately-

"Mending the mistake. It's too late, he already  _ saw _ ," Valerio hissed, viciously satisfied as another crack appeared. His glee was short-lived, however. 

"Did I forget? Why can't I remember? What if he's right?" 

Ice filled his veins, freezing him to his very core. 

"No, no, no, no, he's lying. Don't trust him, he's a  _ liar _ !" he yelled at the screen, pounding at it uselessly. He was panicking. He knew it and he knew he had to calm down, but this was going exactly the same way as before and he had to  _ stop it _ . 

"Just  _ shut up!"  _

Valerio flinched. That… was for him. The other Valerio just spoke to him. Had he done that last time? His memories of this day were fussy and filled with pain. Why had he been in pain though? He hadn't been hurt. No, it was a headache. A terrible headache that only got worse. Everything was so loud and… 

And he'd heard a voice. His voice. He'd completely forgotten about it, or been made to forget. But it hadn't worked, not fully. He remembered now, the voice screaming unintelligible things in his head, feeling like he was going to die and the only way to stop it was to agree. 

_ Do you want me to help you?  _

Valerio jerked back into the present, Zared's earnest red eyes staring at him through the screen. They were taunting him with the promise that he was already too late. 

"No, don't- you don't know what you're  _ doing _ ! Please,  _ please,  _ don't do this," he begged himself desperately. "It's him! He's the one that's doing this! Just-" A high-pitched whining noise took over, drowning out his voice and making it impossible to even try to communicate. It screeched loudly and he remembered this, remembered the searing pain splitting his head apart. 

_ Yes or no, Valerio. You need to choose. _

He felt tears dripping down his cheeks as he stared blankly at the screen, at Zared. He'd lost, or maybe he'd never even had a chance at victory. Maybe he was stuck in a never-ending loop. Maybe this wasn't the first time he'd lost. 

The other Valerios' voice cut through the noise, a mere whisper in the cacophony of sounds yet he still heard it. 

"He just needs… permission." 

With closed eyes, Valerio leaned his head against the screen and whispered back to his other self. 

"Permission to do what?" 

And in that moment, there was silence. A short reprieve from the overbearing noise, just enough for the other him to hear his words. It was done entirely by design, a ploy to rub more salt into his wounds. 

A sob ripped free from his throat. 

_Yes or no Yes or no Yes or no_ ** _Yes_** **_or-_**

"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> artwork that inspired me: https://houdidesu.tumblr.com/post/92619723823


End file.
